Mozambique does not exactly charm the visitor on arrival. After a long and tiring journey from Senga Bay in Malawi, involving 7 different forms of transport, one bus breakdown, one matola with a punctured tyre, one police fine for being in the back of a pick-up truck and a fight with the border taxi mafia, we arrive at Mozambique immigration in a frazzled state to be met with every type of corruption imaginable.
We are charged separately for the visa no problem , for the official to stamp the visa a bit ridiculous and for the scrap of paper that we filled in to get the visa taking the piss. One guy even attempts to convince me that I need to buy a separate visa for my baggage!
The last bus to the nearest town, Tete, has left hours earlier, so I manage to get us a lift with a lovely South African family, travelling in a posh 8-seater minibus-car thing.
Then, they try to find fault with the certificate, with my passport — peering at me and then my photo and back. Reluctantly, they have to concede that all is in order. So then they start on the driver. He has his big folder of car documents ready and again there is no problem.
The car has two seats in front, and then two rows of three seats — not two benches, but six individual seats with separate seatbelts and headrests. There are two empty seats — it is probably the only car on the continent carrying fewer passengers than it was designed for.
